


On the Sea of Wishes

by OnceUponAMidnight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 19:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13278072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponAMidnight/pseuds/OnceUponAMidnight
Summary: What if everything had gone wrong the day two policemen came to the Lieberman's home?





	On the Sea of Wishes

He’d watched the footage at least 100 times now, each time it always ended the same. One gun went off, then a second, then the third. There was screaming and blood and then finally, a sickening silence. In some ways that bit was the worst.  
He had watched each excruciating second of it.

The first time he had seen it stood out starkly in his head as the repeated watches and time in between had blurred into one. The fake policemen in his house, his family taken by surprise. Clever Leo who had tried to escape only to be caught by Russo skulking in the back.  
He had been a feral creature that day, screaming and fractured and dark, Frank had to knock him unconscious with a headbutt to put an end to it. The pain and insanity of it all screamed at him every second of the day, not that days meant much to him anymore.  
He wished that Frank had killed him that day.

Sometimes food would appear in front of him that he would ignore, his already thin frame become brittle, wasted. Frank did what he could to keep him alive, trying to reach him and bring him back. But Frank understood in too raw and brutal a way and when David was lucid enough to look into those big brown eyes, all he saw was their ghosts.  
He knew that although he understood, Frank was disappointed in him. Disappointed that he hadn’t reacted as Frank had and torn the world apart with his rage. He was disappointed in himself too.

He didn’t care about much these days other than anger and pain. He wanted to kill each and every one of those bastards who had… he couldn’t even say it in his head. He wanted to tear them apart slowly, make them all suffer in a million different ways; his brain helpfully supplied him with all the twisted, brutal torture methods he’d read about over the years.  
But he wasn’t Frank, he certainly didn’t have the skillset to be the Punisher. He knew he should be doing something, anything to bring down those bastards but every time he tried to think he saw _them_ instead. The only three people he loved in this world, broken and bloody and still.

“Lieberman, turn that goddamned thing off” the dark rasp cut through the air but not through his head. It burned in the background like something important he couldn’t quite capture. He stared at the looping video, watching as Russo, his face impassive as he levelled his gun at little Zach. Oh, his beautiful son…  
A large hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him roughly away from the screen, a gentle gesture for Frank.  
“This. Stops. Now” dark eyes bore into him, reflecting his pain and grief. It was too much, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of it all. He turned back to the video, blood was pooling on his kitchen floor. It was a while before he realised that the keening sound he heard was coming from him and not the footage.  
Without letting go of his shoulder, Frank reached over and turned the screen off, his forehead coming to rest against his own. 

As the footage glinted out of existence, something in him roiled, as if the earth underneath him had shifted and lurched. It was a common experience for him recently. He felt his traitorous hands trembling despite how much he willed them to stop.  
Frank’s solid form was the only thing keeping him from the cold, concrete floor. The larger man’s steady breathing a silent comfort as his own erratic chest unwillingly followed suit. 

Frank pulled him to his unsteady feet, and when his legs wouldn’t support even his diminished weight, Frank half dragged, half carried the taller man away from the computers.  
David tried to resist, wanted to ask Frank what the fuck did he think he was doing but the ground still lurched beneath him and he couldn’t speak without risk of completely shattering. So he complied as Frank carefully placed him down on something soft, his own bed he supposed. Too soft, too gentle. He scratched at his arm absently, just to feel something. He had been doing that a lot lately.

He hadn’t realised that Frank had disappeared until he had returned with a plate and a bottle of whiskey. Frank shoved the plate into his trembling lap, “This first” he grunted. David looked down at the sandwich staring at it as if he didn’t know what to do with it. He looked back up at Frank who gave him the full Punisher glare. David almost laughed. He couldn’t imagine the time when that look used to terrify him. Only one thing terrified him now and he was already living it. 

David’s face must have betrayed him as Frank’s lips quirked slightly at the edges, a ghost of a ghost of a smile, but it was enough. “Eat it before I shove it down your throat” there was a slight crack in the raspy voice that made David break all over again.

After a couple of minutes of silence David glared up at Frank, rolled his eyes and with trembling hands picked at the crust of the sandwich.  
Fighting against the hollow nausea, David managed a couple of bites of the sandwich before giving in and absently chewing at the crust instead. Frank snorted disapprovingly but seemed satisfied enough as he laid back in his own bunk and handed the bottle over to David. He took the bottle with two shaking hands and took a large draught. It tasted of pain and regret. Perfect.

“You eat the crusts when you were a kid?” Frank asked conversationally as he stared up at the ceiling. The question was so normal that he could barely remember how to act, eventually he nodded an affirmation.  
“Really? Not me. I always got my Mom to cut them off. Wouldn’t eat it otherwise” Frank’s voice was even and calm, lulling David into the false normalcy. “She’d always tell me I wouldn’t grow up strong without them but she’d still do it anyway” the ghost of a smile was back at the memory. Frank propped himself up on one elbow and took the bottle from David.

David stared at Frank’s hands as he took the bottle and a flash of blood and gore floated in his vision, Frank was still talking but the words faded behind the noise in his head. He closed his eyes against his swimming vision and took a deep breath.  
Opening his eyes, he saw Frank had stopped talking and was watching him curiously. There was a sadness there but mercifully a lack of pity. In Frank’s tenacity, David realised, there was a minute grain of hope. Or something at least.

“Am I boring you?” Frank’s voice was as dry as his expression.  
“Always” David croaked, his voice dry as sandpaper due to lack of use. He realised that he hadn’t spoken since… David reached over for the whiskey and took a large swig, “But that never stopped you before”.  
Frank smirked, the light touching his eyes briefly, “Watch yourself with that. Don’t wanna see that moose cock or pasty white ass of yours again”.  
David felt a smirk of his own as he thought of better times, though that he now thought of those times as better made his throat tighten.

They spent the next few hours like that, Frank talking about nothing and David occasionally interjecting, all the while drinking to keep the demons at bay. It was almost normal.

Eventually, David felt his vision blurring and fading, drunken unconsciousness finally beckoning. He begged his brain to have a night without dreams but he knew that was unlikely.  
Frank looked over at him and his failing struggle to stay awake, “Sleep Lieberman, we’ll get them” Frank’s expression was unreadable then as he went somewhere else in his mind, “We’ll get them” his voice flinty hard.  
The dark void of sleep pulled him down into the darkness and for a while at least, there was blissful nothingness.


End file.
